


Unfinished Business

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:42:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Krycek gives Mulder some disturbing information.





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Unfinished Business by Katy Deery

29 Apr 1998  
Unfinished Business  
(M/K/SK)  
By Katy Deery  
To archive on the MKRA and MSRA only

* * *

Unfinished Business  
By Katy Deery

"The arrangements have been made. We leave tonight on the 10.20 flight to Paris."

Krycek lay on the bed, watching as his companion started to pack things into a holdall.

"You'd better get your stuff together," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. "We don't have a lot of time."

He didn't explain that what few possession he had were already packed away, that he only ever took out what he needed nowadays, leaving the rest easily accessible for a quick exit. "I'm not going with you."

She turned towards him, impatience written in every line of her body. "You don't have a choice. Stay here and you'll wind up dead, like you would have if we hadn't gotten you out of that silo. You have information we want. For that we're willing to offer you our protection."

Krycek smiled and smoothly rose from the bed to stand behind her. "Until I'm no more use to you. Too bad. I have some unfinished business here that I want to take care of."

Irritated, but not unduly alarmed by his attitude, she hurriedly continued her packing. "Like I said, you don't have a choice. You need us."

"I don't need anyone."

With her back turned, she didn't see him lean down and take the gun out from under the pillow. It would have made little difference if she had. She was dead before she even had a chance to feel the bullet that killed her.

****************

As he checked out at the desk, he wondered how long it would be before the cleaning staff reached the hotel room. He wouldn't have much of a head start, he knew that, but he'd take what he could get. The car would have to be ditched, but for now he needed the distance it provided. It would also help him lay a false trail that might just fool the people at his back, for a while at least. He was under no illusions. They would trace him eventually. It was just a matter of time. 

His life lately had been a system of compromises, things done with the aim of staying alive, staying ahead of the game. Now he was about to do something that went against that credo, something so incredibly stupid that even he was having difficulty understanding what was driving him to this course of action. He only knew one thing. That for the first time in a long while, he felt truly alive.

******************

Pacing along the alley, tense with nervous expectation, Mulder wondered what the hell he was doing here. The message was either a trap or the real thing. The promise of information about his sister was something that could have been used by anyone. It was fairly common knowledge that Samantha had disappeared as a child and that he believed she had been abducted by aliens, but the mention of the clones, that was only known to a relative few. Either way, he had no choice. If there was a chance he might find a clue as to what had happened to his sister, he had to take it.

The note had said 11.00 p.m. It was now 11.26 p.m. and there was still no sign of his contact. He'd give them until twelve, then call it quits. A movement at the corner of his eye made him swing round, gun at the ready.

"We've already played this scene, Mulder. If you're going to kill me, get it over with, but I think you might want to hear what I have to say first."

His gun didn't lower. "Krycek!" Mulder watched carefully as the other man approached. "I thought you were dead. I should be used to life's little disappointments by now."

Krycek just grinned at him, seemingly unmoved by the taunt. "Don't worry, Mulder. I don't think my chances of a long and happy future are high at present."

As though sensing that Krycek was of no immediate threat to him, Mulder let his gun arm drop. "Why did you arrange this meet?" he asked, trying to figure out what game the agent was playing with him. "In case it's escaped your notice, I'm one of the people who want to put a gun down your throat and pull the trigger."

Krycek's bitter laugh rent the air. "At the moment, that's the majority of the population, Mulder. Believe me, right about now you're the closest thing to a friendly face I've got in this town."

"That desperate, eh?" Mulder moved closer, ready for any treachery the other man might try. "Maybe there is some justice in the world after all. You do realize I'm not going to just let you go? You killed my father and were involved with the death of Scully's sister. I'm going to make sure you pay for your crimes to the full extent of the law."

Krycek frowned at him. "Don't be naive, Mulder. We both know that I wouldn't make it to trial." He saw the truth of his words echoed on Mulder's face. "Oh, I see. You want someone else to do your dirty work for you. Maybe you are learning to play the game after all."

Mulder didn't like the implications of that. "You were the one who asked for this meeting. You must have known what to expect."

Krycek smiled. "I come bearing gifts. I'm going to give you something, then you're going to let me go. After that, we'll never meet again."

Mulder looked at him incredulously. "What makes you think that anything you give me will make me let you go?"

"Because it's what you want most. I know where your sister is."

The shock hit Mulder like a tidal wave. "You're lying!" He raised his gun again. It couldn't be true. Couldn't. 

Krycek shook his head. "No, this time I'm telling you the truth." He looked away, but Mulder caught a flash of pain, of terror. "The...alien that took me over fed into my mind, knew what I knew, but it was a two way street. I felt what it was feeling, could see its memories, all the years trapped, the desperation." He moved further into the darkness of the alley as though seeking a shield from the FBI man's piercing gaze. "One of the things I picked up was where your sister is."

"You really expect me to believe you?" Mulder asked incredulously. "If you're going to start spinning tales, Krycek, you'd better make sure you get your facts straight. The alien was trapped in the sub before I was even born, let alone my sister. There's no way it could have known what happened to her."

"It knew, Mulder. It was....connected, to others, other minds." 

Krycek seemed lost in unpleasant memories for a moment, the sick expression on his face almost gaining a spark of reluctant sympathy from Mulder. Almost.

Shaking himself out of his introspection, Krycek continued. "Look, I've written what I remember down. It was starting to fade on me so I thought I'd better make a record while I could. The information is being held in a safety deposit box."

Mulder laughed, mockingly "And you're going to hand it all over to me, just like that? Was it my cologne?"

Mulder was surprised to see the other man reddened under his taunt.

"Before I give you the location, I want your word that you'll let me leave here and that you won't try and follow me."

"And if I won't give you my word?" Bitter experience told him not to trust this man and he didn't like to repeat past mistakes.

Krycek's gaze was impenetrable. "Then you'll never know, Mulder."

The FBI man just stared back. Could Krycek be telling the truth? "Why?"

Alex understood what he was asking. "Maybe because I owe you, or maybe it's because I want those Sonsabitches to pay. You're the only one who might do it, if you live long enough."

Mulder wanted to believe so badly, wanted to see a finish to the impossible quest that had consumed his life. And in the end, he wanted it more than he wanted Krycek dead. He slowly lowered his gun. "If you're lying, I'll hunt you down and I'll kill you, very, very slowly." 

Krycek nodded, accepting the promise it was meant to be. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Mulder. "This is the name and address of the bank where the information is held, plus the account holder's details. As long as I make a call tomorrow morning, you'll have access to it." He swung round abruptly and started to retrace his steps. As he reached the end of the alley, he stopped and turned, looking back to where Mulder stood unmoving, watching him with cold intentness. 

"For what it's worth, I didn't kill your father." Krycek smiled. "I was going to, but he saved me the trouble. I guess the guilt got to him in the end."

He was gone before Mulder could raise his gun to fire.

****************

The dark haired man entered the hotel room, looking around with little interest. His attention quickened though when he saw the money on the dresser. Payment up front of course, as always.

"So, what do you want?" he asked, arrogantly studying his host.

"I want you to shut up and get your clothes off." 

The man motioned to the bed and the hustler strolled over, casually disrobing. Naked, he lay down, presenting himself to best advantage. It was the third time he'd had this particular trick and he felt confident in his attraction. Benny had told him that the client had very specific tastes. Tall, dark, mid thirties. Steve had been the only one of Benny's boys who had suited the requirements and the man had seemed satisfied with the choice. If things were a little heavy at times, it was no more than the hustler could handle. 

There was no denying that the guy was attractive, a far cry from the tired, sweaty, business types that Steve normally dealt with. The tall, lithe figure and dark good looks were an agreeable combination and the sex was good. Very good. <No harm in enjoying your work for a change, Steve,> he thought, smiling seductively up at the man above him.

Eyes hungrily mapped every inch of the hustler's body, nodding in satisfaction with the picture presented to him. He began to strip. "We'll play this like before. You only speak when I tell you to, you only say the words I tell you to say. Understand?"

Steve nodded.

"You remember what I told you to say last time?"

Another nod.

"Good." 

Naked, the man approached the bed. Bending down, he stroked the firm, white chest waiting so invitingly for his touch. Moving around to the other side of the bed, he reached into the drawer and took out a condom. 

"Get me ready." He tossed the packet onto his companion's stomach, smiling slightly as the hustler jerked in reaction.

Picking up the condom, Steve knelt on the bed, gently pulling the other man by the hips to move him closer. He nuzzled the flesh that was already rising at his touch, liking the feel of the hard column against his cheek. He enjoyed what he did some of the time and this particular john he found strangely exciting. Maybe it was the element of danger he sensed in the other man. Whatever, some days it was almost a pleasure to come to work.

An impatient tap to his head made him realize he'd been dawdling and he set to his task with renewed diligence. Ignoring the cock that arrowed towards him, he moved underneath, licking first one ball with his tongue, then the other. Hearing the groan from above, he knew that his actions were appreciated and was therefore surprised when a hand gripped his hair and roughly tugged him away. 

As his head was jerked up, he passively opened his mouth to accept the cock that was force into it, allowing his throat to relax in accommodation of the size as it thrust into him. Swallowing repeatedly, he was grateful when he was permitted to pull back slightly, sucking the cock as best he could as it rammed in again and again. Working his tongue along its length, he felt it grow even hotter and larger and wondered if his date would come in his mouth or stave off the approaching orgasm. He soon got his answer as the man pulled out and pushed him back onto the mattress. Climbing onto the bed, the man thrust his hips out and waited. Taking his cue, the hustler ripped the condom packet open and rolled it onto the rod of flesh in front of him, flinching slightly as the man's hand bit into his shoulder painfully. When the rubber was on, he lay down on the bed again and waited, his hand absently stroking his own erection.

Batting the hand out of the way, the man started to work the hustler's cock, tugging it almost to the point of pain, but never quite reaching it. The hustler sighed and settled back. So few of his clients bothered about his needs. It was one of the reasons he got such a kick out of this one. He always took care of him, seemed to get as much of a thrill out of making him come as he did in his own pleasure. He felt hands spreading him and eagerly held his legs back to give easier access. To save time and insure his own comfort, he had prepared himself before getting here and as a finger entered and unerringly homed in on his prostate, he soon found himself brought to a fever pitch of wanting. Wrapping his legs around the man above him, he tried to spur him on. Disappointed as the finger was withdrawn, but eager for what was to come, he spread himself again and waited, but the man only pressed his legs down and lay across him, holding the rubber in place as he slid against the body beneath him. 

Tongue dipping into hollows and exploring with almost clinical precision, the man alternatively nipped and soothed the hustler's spasming flesh as he left his mark here and there like a brand. Lifting the hustler's hand, he slowly sucked on his fingers, moving them in and out in an erotic simulation of what was to come. Placing the wet hand against his chest, he moved it over his nipples, wet trails passing coldly over heated flesh. He leant over and for a second the hustler thought he was going to kiss him, but at the last moment the man turned aside and whispered softly in his ear. 

"Say my name. Say it!"

"Alex," he groaned and ran his hands along the firm back. "Alex."

"What do you want?" the breathless murmur demanded.

Taking his cue, he repeated the words that had been asked of him that first night. "I want you, Alex. I want you to take me."

He felt the other man smile where he rested against his cheek and turned his head to try and reach the cruel lips so near his own, but they pulled away from him. Urgent now, hands tugged at him and he raised his legs obediently, suddenly wanting this as desperately as the man paying him for the service.

He felt the nudge at the entrance to his body and held his breath for the first penetration, but rather than the hard thrust he'd received during previous encounters, he was surprised to feel himself entered slowly, almost as though his companion cared about hurting him. The glide in was easy and smooth, the lubrication he'd used taking care of that, and he hooked his legs around the hips above him as his partner moved that last inch inside. Releasing his breath in a long sigh, he gently flexed his muscles against the intruding bulk that pierced him. A hiss from the man poised over him made him smile. Even in this position it was possible to retain an element of control over the situation. This assurance was tested though as a hand reached down to grasp his own cock, the sure thumb flicking over the head forcing a gasp of pleasure from him. He hardly felt it as his companion eased almost completely out of his body, but the sharp thrust back in pushed him along the bed with its force. 

Grabbing the back of the bed and anchoring himself as best he could, he allowed the driving rhythm to rock him. His legs were pressed back against his chest, causing a mild discomfort that was of little consequence now. He felt a sharp pain as one of his nipples was bitten, but it only served to bring him closer to a keening pleasure that was building with each plunge into his body. Clasping his lover's buttocks, he began to enticingly rub his fingers between the globes. He wanted to cry out, demand completion, but held his tongue, held the other man's fantasy. It was rare for him to be given this much pleasure. He was usually just there to get the client off in whatever way they desired. But with this one it was different.

"No one else can do this to you, can they? I'm the only one you'd let fuck you?" the man demanded, thrusting into the body beneath him with supreme ownership.

"Yes! Yes!" He hardly remembered what he'd been primed to say, his own needs for once paramount, 

"You belong to me, don't you? Don't you, Fox?"

He became confused at the use of the odd name, then remembered that the passionate lovemaking wasn't really meant for him. Not that it mattered in the end. All he had to do was play along and both their needs would be met. 

"Yes, I belong to you, Alex. Now for god's sake, fuck me!"

He heard the satisfied chuckle, felt the hard jerk as his requested was granted. When the other man abruptly pulled away, he cried out in protest, but as he was turned onto his knees, he gladly spread himself again in invitation, sighing in sheer relief as he was filled once more. Bracing himself on the wall over the bed, he pushed back against the thrusting hips, knowing that it couldn't last much longer. The tempo of the thrusts increased and he wanted to cry out, to urge his lover on. He bit his cheek in frustration, feeling the iron taste of blood in his mouth. Speaking out of turn was not allowed. This was a lesson he had learned on his first night with this man. Failure to follow instructions brought swift retribution and he had no desire to suffer the consequences. One part of his mind wondered what kind of man this Fox was. What it was about him that created such desperation, such necessity. It should only have mattered that he was paid, and paid well, to act as a substitute for this stranger with the strange name, but there was something about this particular client that made him wish <he> was the one who was desired with such an all encompassing passion. If he had learned anything in this life though, it was to take what you can get when you can get it, so, pushing his thoughts aside, he allowed himself to feel only the pleasure that was singing through his body. Rubbing himself against the velour covered headboard, he took the hand that was clutching his hip and used it to stimulate his cock. 

A tongue licked at the sweat pooling in the hollows of his neck, the open lips devouring him hungrily. "This is what you want, isn't it, Fox?," the man mumbled against his flesh. "You want me inside you, filling you up with my cock, with my seed."

He felt the first pulse and clenched his muscles. "I want you, Alex."

"Oh god! Tell me! TELL ME!!"

He heard the frenzy in the man's voice, felt it in the hand surrounding his flesh, stroking it, pumping it until he was....almost......THERE...

"I LOVE YOU, ALEX!" 

He screamed the words, hardly feeling the other shoot his essence inside of him even as he spewed forth his own life force across the bed. Resting against the wall, he felt weak, spent. Finally his legs gave way under him and, moaning softly, he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed.

He lay like that for what seemed like ages, a sated haze filling him with contentment. Sensing a movement, he turned and watched languidly as the young man he knew only as 'Alex' got up off the bed and moved to stand by the window. In the dim morning light he could make out the play of hard muscles under lean flesh, admiring the naked buttocks that clench and unclenched with each step.

There was something distant and very lonely about the figure, but then there always was after they had sex. It was as though he regretted even that momentary loss of control. He always came back though, like an addict looking for a fix. It was only afterwards that the restlessness returned, the dissatisfaction with what at best was only a temporary high. For all that, he seemed totally unable to resist its pull.

"Come back to bed," Steve said, lazily stretching out over the mattress.

"I'll be leaving today."

As the hustler heard the cold reply, he was surprised at the disappointment he felt. He'd have to be careful in future. Getting involved with your date was not a wise thing to do at the best of times, and these were far from the best of times.

"I guess that means you won't be needing me again?"

He watched as Alex pulled the curtain back and looked out over the desert to where the sun was just starting to pink tinge the golden vista before him.

"I don't need anyone."

And they both knew he was lying.

****************

Mulder stood and looked down at the grave. Kim Jane Rose. Bending, he traced his fingers over the name etched into solid granite. It would remain there for years, this name. This wrong name.

"Mulder?" 

He turned and saw his partner, Dana Scully, concern sharply apparent on her face. Once that would have warmed him, but not today. Somehow he doubted he would ever feel warm again.

"They killed her, Scully. They killed Samantha. I was getting too close, so they killed her." He sounded lost, like a child who didn't understand how the world could be so cruel, so completely without mercy.

Scully frowned, drawing closer to his hunched figure. "Mulder, we don't even know for sure this was your sister. We only have Krycek's word for it and he's not going to get my vote for the most truthful person on the planet."

Mulder just shook his head, crouching down beside the gravestone. He had learned a lot about Kim Jane Rose in the past few days. How she like to take long walk's on the beach. How she was always terrified of the dark, even when childhood fears were long behind her. How she was plague by nightmares that haunted her life, her so unhappy life, and left her an emotional cripple. If only he had found her sooner. There was so much he could have done, so many ways he could have helped her understand and conquer the fear. Now it was too late. Too late. 

"I know it was her, Scully." He looked up at his partner, this person who was closer to him than anyone, needing her to believe. "I know it was Samantha." He tried to hold in the pain, rubbing angrily at the stinging in his eyes. "I never got a chance to say I was sorry, Scully. I wanted her to know how sorry I was, how many nights I lay awake and wished they'd taken me instead of her."

Scully lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know, Mulder. I know."

He stood up abruptly, brushing his cheeks with his hand. "They aren't going to get away with it this time, Scully. I'm going to do whatever it takes to bring them down."

Scully grabbed his arm as he started to walk away. "Mulder, we're not even sure this wasn't just a suicide."

She notice her partner wince and held on as he tried to pull away.

"I know that it's hard for you accept this, but if this woman was your sister, she had a very troubled history. The local police told me that this wasn't her first suicide attempt." 

Mulder flinched.

"I'm sorry, but this could be just what it seems, Mulder."

"My sister did not kill herself!" He was almost shouting, as though if he said it loud enough it would make it true.

"Maybe not," Scully acknowledged, "but we can't be sure of that and I don't intend to stand by while you get yourself killed over this." She drew closer. "I know what it's like, Mulder. I felt all the things you're feeling now. I'm just asking you to step back for a while until you can get this into perspective. At the moment you're just reacting. You need to take some time before you decide what you want to do."

Mulder took her hand off his arm, but instead of releasing it, he clasped it between his own. "I've just been searching for so long and there were so many times that I almost gave up and all the time she was here, so close, and I never knew. I never knew, Scully."

As he let her hand drop and started to walk away, Scully began to follow, but something made her stop. It was as though Mulder had erected a wall, one that had a 'keep out' sign posted on it, and this time she would not be allowed to break through. Not until her partner was ready. She could only hope that her words had had some affect. Looking back at the grave, she bid a silent farewell to a woman she had never met, yet who had played a major part in her life of late. She could only hope that Mulder, believing he had found his sister at last, would not now lose himself in the process.

***************

He ignored the knock on the door until it became a virtual pounding. Only consideration for his neighbors made him rise to answer it. Not bothering with caution, he ripped it open, uncaring if it was Cancer man and all his goons come to finish off the job they'd started. He felt only numbness, as if nothing could reach him, not even the pain of his sister's death. Although he knew this would not last, he welcome the temporary respite.

A large figure loomed outside his door and he felt a spark of surprise as he recognized the figure of his boss, Assistant Director Skinner. This was a visitation he hadn't expected. Stepping back, he allowed the AD to enter.

Skinner glanced around quickly before his attention came to bear on Mulder. 

"I got your message requesting a few days leave," he said, his keen gaze taking in Mulder's less than groomed appearance. "Scully told me about your sister."

Mulder sat down on the couch, and without waiting for an invitation that wasn't forthcoming, Skinner took a seat across from him.

"Did she tell you she's not even sure that it is my sister?" Mulder asked flatly.

Skinner frowned. "No, but she did say that you didn't believe it was suicide."

"It wasn't suicide!" It was the most emotion he had felt since leaving her graveside and he resented Skinner for making him feel it. "They got to her, just like they tried to get to you and Scully. Anyone close to me suffers in the end." 

There was a grim finality to the statement that drew Skinner's concern. He had noted the gun on the table when he'd first come in, but had thought then that it was there only for Mulder's protection. Now he wasn't so sure.

"How did you know where to find her?" he asked, trying to gauge Mulder's mood.

Mulder laughed humorlessly. "You've heard the old adage, beware Greeks bearing gifts? Well, they should have added 'And Kryceks'."

Skinner leant forward. "Krycek told you where to find your sister? Mulder, they could just be setting you up hoping to throw you. Do you have any proof that this woman was really your sister?"

Mulder smiled and rested his head back against the couch. "You sound just liked Scully." He looked at Skinner. "I have no proof that this was my sister, just like I have no proof that aliens have and are continuing to visit this planet."

 "But you believe it was her?" Skinner said, ignoring the gibe.

"I know it was her." 

His answer was implacable and Skinner knew it would be a waste of time arguing the point. Anyway, he had learned that no matter how crazy things sounded, Mulder had a sixth sense about these things. If he truly believed that this woman was his sister, then the AD was willing to accept the possibility that she might have been.

"OK, we'll work on the assumption that it was your sister and that maybe they did get to her. What I want to know is what you intend to do about it?"

Mulder looked at him warily. "Do about it?"

"Don't try and bullshit me, Mulder. I remember what you were like when Scully was returned that time. You were out for blood. I don't want you going off and doing something stupid. They'd like nothing better than to hang a murder charge on you. Not even I'd be able to get you out of that one."

Mulder rose to his feet angrily. "And who exactly am I suppose to kill? Cancer Man?" He turned and went to the window. The snow was falling thickly now covering the street below in a cleansing blanket of white. "He's just the tip of the iceberg. Somewhere out there are the people who pull his strings. I take him out and they'll just replace him with some other puppet and people like Scully and Samantha will continue to suffer."

Skinner came and stood close behind him, so close that Mulder could feel his hot breath on his neck. He shivered, a strange tension filling him at the proximity.

"You have to play them at their own game, Mulder."

"Like you do?" he demanded, turning.

Skinner lips pursed with annoyance. "Yes, like I do. I'm not on some quest for the truth, Mulder. I just want a chance to do my job and still be able to look at myself in the mirror each morning."

Mulder studied him intently. "And can you? Knowing what they're doing, what they'll continue to do?"

A dull flush of anger suffused Skinner's face. "Sometimes. Usually when I've just pulled your butt out of the fire."

Mulder had the grace to look ashamed, turning back to the window as if the answer lay somewhere in the frozen street below. "I'm sorry. I know Scully and I owe you our lives." He shook his head in frustration. "It's just everywhere I turn I hit a dead end or wind up with more questions than answers." He watched as a snowflake slowly trickled down the glass, for all world like a tear reflecting his own deep pain. "The people I care about get hurt because of me."

Skinner wanted to find some way to get through to Mulder, but to do that meant lowering barriers he had fought long and hard to create. He wasn't sure he was ready to do that, but the anguish that seemed to radiated out of the younger agent's despondent form made it impossible for him to just turn and walk away.

He put some distance between them, gathering his thoughts and trying to ignore the inner voice that cautioned silence. Eventually it was the sight of the gun lying discarded, yet still deadly, on the table that made him choose to speak.

"When I was fifteen years old," he began, trying to put his memories into form without letting the grief intrude, "I went on a camping trip with my aunt and uncle and their son, Patrick. He was a couple of years younger than me and I was kinda like a big brother to him." He smiled, remembering the boy of all those long years ago. "He followed me all over the place. Never could shake him."

Mulder drew closer, seeing the smile fade as Skinner continued.

"One day we went down to the river to swim. Patrick wasn't used to swimming anywhere outside of his parent's pool. I used to taunt him about it, call him a baby." He glanced at Mulder. "I was fifteen, stupid, not more than a kid myself." He paused a moment, then carried on. "I guess Patrick felt he needed to prove himself to me. There was a ledge of rocks that hung over the river. I could never get Patrick to dive off them." 

Skinner sat down on the couch, his hands clenched, hanging between his knees. 

"I still have nightmares where I hear him calling out to me, see him standing on that ledge, waving,..... " He slowly removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose before replacing them. "They told me later that he must have hit his head on some rocks in the water when he dived in, that there was nothing I could have done." He looked up at Mulder. "I felt like I'd killed him. Some days, I still feel that way."

Shaking himself out of his painful reminiscences, he put the past behind him once again. It was an old wound, one he had learned to live with long ago, and he had more immediate concerns that needed his attention. 

"I spent a lot of time regretting what happened, wishing that things had been different, that I hadn't said what I had, hadn't taken Patrick to the river in the first place. And you know what, Mulder? It didn't change a damn thing." He reached over and picked up the gun. "And neither will this."

Mulder looked startled. He'd completely forgotten that he'd left his weapon on the table.

"What did you intend doing with this, Agent Mulder?" Skinner queried, holding the gun up.

Mulder looked at him angrily. "What, you think suicide runs in the family? First my father, then Samantha, now me?"

Skinner looked surprised. "Your father? In your report you stated that you believed Krycek was responsible for your father's death."

Mulder's anger faded abruptly as he realized what he'd let slip out. Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he told Skinner what Krycek had implied at their last meeting. "The sonofabitch lied. I know he killed my father," but the AD noticed a desperation in his voice that made him suspect Mulder <did> believe what Krycek had told him.

He took the gun out of Skinner's hand, watching as the dull light reflected off the black metal. "I won't deny I was thinking of using this," he said bitterly before carefully replacing it in its holster, "but killing myself wasn't on the agenda."

"Yeah," Skinner said, not allowing his relief to show as Mulder put the gun away. "I've wanted a little retribution myself at times."

Mulder laughed in surprise, sitting next to Skinner on the couch. "You? I can't imagine you ever losing control."

Skinner looked annoyed. "I'm as human as the next man, Mulder."

Mulder smiled in apology. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't, but you don't seem as prone to the same frailties as the rest of us." He fiddled nervously with the TV remote, wishing he hadn't started this conversation. It wasn't in his nature though to back away. "I admire that about you, you're strength, your discipline." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sometimes I wish I was more like that." He shook his head. "I'm willing to risk my own life to get at the truth, but do I have the right to endanger those people who are close to me in the search for my own personal holy grail?"

Skinner reached out, hesitating before aborting the gesture and allowing his hand to fall ineffectively onto the couch between them. "Mulder, you are probably the strongest man I have ever met," he said, a smile quirking his lips. "You are also the most pig-headed man I have even met." His expression turned serious. "I don't know what's going on, what Cancer Man and his people are up to, but I do know one thing. If you give up, they win, and the thought of what might happen then terrifies me."

Mulder sat transfixed. "You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, stunned by the softly spoken words of faith from this so private of men.

"Yes, I really believe that." 

Skinner stood abruptly, suddenly feeling intensely embarrassed by the conversation. What was it about this man that made him open up in ways he never thought he would again? "Take the rest of the week, Mulder, but I want to see you in my office on Monday."

Mulder rose too, following him to the door. "You can't go home in this weather. They've sent out blizzard warnings."

Skinner glanced to where the snow beat against the window in relentless confirmation of Mulder's words.

"I'll get a room in town tonight."

Mulder shook his head. "The hotels will be full of people with the same idea." He gestured to the couch. "I usually sleep there anyway, so you're welcome to use my bed for the night."

Skinner hesitated. He didn't particularly want to brave the storm outside and he suspected that Mulder would be right about the hotels being full. Still, it wasn't his policy to get involved personally with his agents. He laughed silently to himself. Who was he trying to kid? He'd been personally involved with Fox Mulder for some time now and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it at this late stage.

"OK, Mulder. Thanks," he said, shrugging out of his raincoat and hanging it up by the door.

Mulder seemed at something of a loss now that his offer had been accepted. "Uhh, there are some pajamas in the bedroom drawer. Might be a bit snug, but they should fit."

Skinner smiled. "I don't usually wear pajamas, but thanks anyway."

Finding the whole idea of Skinner sleeping naked in his bed oddly exciting, Mulder merely nodded, trying to control the flush he felt stealing over his face.

"I think I'll turn in now," Skinner said, wearily rubbing the back his neck. "It's been a long day." The AD looked at him. "Sure you don't want the bed?"

  
Mulder suddenly had a vision of the two of them sharing it. <Where the hell did that come from> he thought, confused and not a little frightened.

"No, I prefer the couch. I don't get much sleep anyway."

Skinner walked over to the door. "Good night then. I'll see you in the morning." He turned to enter the bedroom, then paused, looking back at the lonely figure behind him. "Mulder..." he seemed to have difficulty choosing his words. "If you have trouble sleeping tonight, wake me up, OK?" 

Unable to control the tingle of excitement he felt, Mulder stood and watched as Skinner closed the bedroom door behind him, quietly expelling the breath he had not been aware of holding as he sunk back down onto the couch. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but he was willing to wait and see where it took him. All he really knew was that a night that had promised to be a living hell for him had suddenly become full of possibilities. He looked over at the picture of his sister on the dresser. The sadness was still there, but not as acute as before. He couldn't bring her back. All he could do was continue to fight the forces that had destroyed her. 

"I'm not alone anymore, Sam," he whispered, sadly wishing he had gotten the chance to know the adult she had become. "I have good people helping me now, people who care. One day you <will> have the justice you deserve. I promise you."

He looked over at the bedroom door, hearing the soft sounds of movement inside...and wondered....

*****************

The chilling cold was beginning to seep into his bones and he knew he would have to take shelter soon. His attention though didn't waver from the window across the street. A while ago he had spotted Mulder's hunched form, illuminated by the pale glow of lamp light behind him, and his breath had caught for an instant. It hadn't been that long since he had last spoken to the other man, but at the time he had convinced himself that he would never see Mulder again. He had not realized then how impossible a task that would be.

Since that all too brief glimpse, he had remained silently waiting in the shadows, watching impassively as Scully gave up her own vigil outside Mulder's apartment and drove off down the street. Obviously she had also noted Skinner's car outside, deciding Mulder was safe and in good hands for the night.

Krycek was not of the same opinion. When he had seen the Assistant Director standing behind Mulder at the window, it had thwarted his own plans to call on his old partner. Now his expression was as cold as the snow around him. As time passed and the FBI man made no move to leave, it gradually became apparent to Krycek that Skinner intended to spend the night in Mulder's apartment. This was not a development that Krycek had foreseen and the implications stunned him. He fingered the gun in his holster and thought about them together. His hand clenched around the metal. He had long accepted the fact that he could never have Mulder. Too much had passed between them for it to work even if he were in a position to contemplate having a relationship with anyone. He had also accepted something else. As long as he was alive, he would not let Mulder go. Whatever it was about his old adversary that kept drawing him back, he was completely powerless against it. He needed Mulder in a way he had never needed anyone. It was not a comfortable obsession, but it was all that he had now, the one constant in his life. He wouldn't let anyone take it away from him.

Smiling grimly, he reached under his coat and withdrew his gun.....and waited.

The End....for now.

Katy Deery  
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<>  
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End file.
